Berry Scene (26 page)

The other hesitated. Then he ran for his car.

As he did so, I entered the Rolls.

“Let him follow,” I said. “Straight on, Fitch. I’ll tell you the way to go.”

Berry sank back on the cushions and crossed his legs.

“You see,” he said, “of such is Mr Wireworm, I didn’t feel like giving Berwick away. Of course, he is the delinquent. That is why he was using the lesser roads. But I didn’t want to be the hangman. Besides, of the two, I very much prefer Berwick. Anyone would. And Wireworm is covered by insurance – he said as much. But Berwick has dropped a packet over the van.”

“True,” said I. “And, in spite of all he says, the damage to Wireworm’s car can’t be very grave. If it was half as bad as he makes out, the back of the van would be smashed. Still, Berwick bad no right to clear out, while the going was good. I mean, that was a dirty one.”

“Yes, it was,” said Berry. “You can’t get away from that. But Wireworm is such a swine that I could not bring myself to help him to his revenge. The silly thing is he never got as far as asking me for Berwick’s name and address. Or for his receipt. And that was just as well, for both were in my cigarette case, and you had that. But what a show. Hadn’t we better leave him? I want my dinner in peace.”

“We will,” I said, “as soon as we get to Cherries. But Fitch doesn’t know these roads. First on the right, Fitch, and, after that, the first on the right again. That’ll bring us to Cherries, and then you’ll know where you are, and we’ll run away.”

“That’s right, sir.”

The light was failing now, and our lights were on. So were Mr Wireworm’s. I drew the blind behind me, to shut them out.

We were less than a mile from Cherries – a little more than a village and less than a town – when I noticed a tail-light two hundred paces ahead. As I looked, it rounded a bend and was lost to sight. A moment later, however, I saw it again – and something more,
for the caravan that bore it was moving at half our speed. The back of the van was very badly damaged
… The merciless glare of our head-lights showed up the splintered panels, the broken step… The van had been in recent collision, beyond all doubt.

As Fitch exclaimed – .

“Well, I’m damned,” said Berry. “Poor old Worm-cast – I mean, Wireworm. And now tie’s got to begin all over again. How do we put him wise? If we can help it, I’d rather not be involved.”

“Pull out to pass him, Fitch, but go very slow. Keep abreast of the van for a moment, if you can see ahead. The idea is to block the road. Then Mr Wireworm’s head-lights will show him the state of the van.”

Fitch did the thing very well.

We were still abreast of the van, when a screech of fury rang out from the car behind. Then its electric horn began to open fire.

“He’s got it,” said I. “Go on, Fitch.”

And there was Cherries ahead…

As we swung to the left and on to the main highway—

“Stop a moment,” said Berry. “Now that we’re out of the wood, I’d like to be in at the death.”

We left the Rolls and walked back, to stand unobserved in the shadows against a wall.

Wireworm had passed his prey and had swung across the bows of the car that was trailing the van. Against this obstructive action, some man was bellowing protests of the most violent sort, while Wireworm, now out of his car, was yelling ‘Police.’ People were standing, staring, and a crowd was beginning to form.

“Go an’ learn to drive,” bawled the man. “Get out of my way.”

“No — fear,” howled Wireworm. “I’ve been chasing you for six hours, you filthy criminal. And now I’ve got you, I’m not going to let you go. You rammed my car and bolted this afternoon. At Nether Beauchamp.”

“You’re out of your mind,” raved the other. “I’ve never been near the place.”

“Don’t lie to me,” yelled Wireworm…

“When Greek meets Greek,” said Berry. “And now let’s go. You see, I know what’s coming. I was – present at the rehearsal.” We turned to go back to the Rolls. “But what a mercy I didn’t let Berwick in.”

We reached White Ladies that night at ten o’clock.

As I was leaving the car—

“Excuse me, sir,” said Fitch. “But would there be any objection to my getting the van tonight?”

“None,” said I, “if you want to. You’ll take the Vane, of course. But won’t you be very tired?”

“That’s all right, sir. By night the roads’ll be clear.”

“So they will,” said I.

“And then again – I mean, after all this fuss, sir, it might be as well to get the van out of the way. The Major’s ’ad trouble enough, an’ if that driver should manage to bluff Mr Wireworm…”

“He wouldn’t bluff me,” said I, “with his van in that state. Still, you never know. And if Mr Wireworm harks back…”

“Exactly, sir. If he should – well, then there won’t be no van.”

“All right. Get some supper first. You won’t be back before five.”

As I entered the hall—

“But, my darling,” said Daphne, “how awful.”

“That adjective,” said Berry, “in no way meets the case. Indeed, unless one is to overstep the bounds of decency, one cannot fairly describe what one has endured. I couldn’t leave the scene, and so I was at the swine’s mercy for more than two hours. I couldn’t get out of earshot. If I walked down the road, he followed, mouthing maledictions and teaching me terrible things. I handed them on to Berwick, under my breath. But that didn’t do much good. And – Oh, I forgot to tell you. Whenever anyone passed, he asked them to fetch the police. And when they asked ‘What for?’, he started in. Talk about incoherence. Of course they thought he was mad, and I think he is. Never, perhaps, outstanding, his mental apparatus has been deranged. He worshipped his nice, new car. And then he comes out to find that some wallah has done it in.
And
made himself scarce. If you ask me, before that affliction something gave way. The silly thing is he had my sympathy. But whenever I handed it out, he flung it back in my face. Raved about wolves in sheep’s clothing, and things like that. And now I must go and wash. You shall have the rest at dinner. Tell Falcon I’ll have two cocktails.”

“One will do,” said his wife. “I’ve ordered champagne.”

Berry took her fingers and put them up to his lips.

“Which gave that order,” he said. “Your beautiful head, or your still more beautiful heart?”

The next morning, when I was called, I learned that the van was safe at Caracol Farm.

At ten o’clock on Wednesday the butler entered the room.

“The Chinaman is here, madam.”

“Ah,” said Berry. “Well, he’d better have some breakfast or something. Have we got any rotten eggs?”

“Be quiet,” said Daphne. “Is he all right, Falcon? I mean, well-behaved.”

“His manner is perfect, madam. And I thought you would wish him to have something, so Mrs Mason has arranged it. I think he’s to have some cold meat.”

“Good. Let him come round to the terrace in half an hour.”

“Very good, madam.”

By five and twenty past ten, the stage was set.

To his indignation, Nobby had been confined: we were, all three, upon the terrace: and The Bold was upon the great lawn, lying upon his side and mouthing his rubber bone.

Hat in hand, with an under-gardener for guide, the Chinaman came into view. Then the former pointed and left, and the latter stood very still. He did not see us. He had eyes for the puppy alone.

So for, perhaps, a minute. Then he looked round about him, surveying the trees and the lawn and, after a little, the house. He saw us then and made as though to come forward. But Berry held up a hand and indicated The Bold.

The Chinaman bowed. Then he turned to the sward and began to move over the turf to where the dog was at play

The Bold neither saw nor heard him, until he was very close. Then he sat up and looked round, to see who was afoot.

The Chinaman fell upon his knees.

Then he addressed the dog with the deepest respect.

The Bold displayed no emotion, but to me it was very clear that he knew him again. After a little, he rose and, as he had done in Court, he put out a little paw. And the Chinaman bent his head, and the puppy leaned forward and touched his brow with his tongue. Then he lay down again, with his eyes on the Chinaman’s face.

Then the latter spoke at some length – I think, in Chinese – as though he were offering counsel. Though he spoke for fully two minutes, The Bold heard him out – and that is a thing which, if I had not seen it, I never would have believed.

Then the puppy stood up again, and the Chinaman knelt by his side, pointing to the lawn and the timber and then to the terrace and house. ‘All is yours,’ he seemed to be saying… And The Bold looked well about him – and then returned to his bone.

For a moment, the Chinaman watched him. Then he turned and moved to the foot of the terrace steps.

There he stood still and bowed.

“It is well, my lord,” he said quietly. “If you please, The Bold will stay here.”

“D’you mean for good?” said Daphne.

“If you please. It is better so. Now I will go to Southampton, to find a ship.”

“Are you sure you mean this?” said Berry.

“I am sure, my lord. Here he is well and happy. His eyes are bright.” He bowed again. “I have much to thank you for.”

As he turned, I rose, to walk with him round to the drive.

“You’re going to Southampton?” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“D’you know how to get there?” I said.

“Yes, by Brooch – the city where I was confined.”

“Can we help you in any way? I mean, have you money enough?”

“I have enough,” said the man. “This morning, before I left, they gave me my money back.”

“Then, er, that’s all right,” I said feebly.

The Chinaman bowed.

After an awkward silence—

“The Bold,” I said, “plays with my terrier, who is a well-bred dog.”

“I am glad,” said the Chinaman.

“The terrier takes care of him.”

“Yes, sir.”

As we came to the drive—

“Which reminds me,” I said. “Two strangers tried to take him a fortnight ago. They pretended that he was their dog. But they didn’t get very far, and my terrier bit the man in the calf of his leg.”

“It is well,” said the Chinaman quietly. “He would not have been happy with them. They were fat and ill-bred. That is why I took him away.”

He turned and left me, standing with a hand to my head.

And so, I believe, I stood, till he passed out of sight.

After considerable reflection, I decided to hold my peace. Receivers or no, The Bold was better with us.

Six months had gone by, and we were drinking sherry in Charles Street, before going home to dine.

Athalia Fairfax’s parties were always good. They were not too big – there were twelve of us there this evening – and the guests were carefully chosen, or seemed to be. All knew each other well, but did not meet all the time. The Levels were older than us; the Pemburys were rather younger: Lady Morayne was outspoken; Forsyth was something reserved: but all had a sense of humour and felt the same about things. There was almost a suggestion of the
salon
about the parties that Punch and Athalia gave.

“The world,” shouted Lady Morayne, “has gone down the drain.”

“I quite agree,” said Berry: “but England will get it out. It’ll stick before it gets to the cesspool, and England will shove it back.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m talking of manners and customs. People used to behave when I was young.”

Lord Level laughed.

“History repeats itself, Mary. That’s just what your mother said.”

“My warrant is stronger than hers. People get drunk at dances. What about that?”

“Out of all order,” said Berry.

“Out of all order, my foot. It’s indecent – you know it is. Adela Churt gives a dance for that niece of hers. She asks fifty couples and seventy-five turn up. Fifty gate-crashers, thank you. Seven young men get drunk and have to be carried away. And the damage done. The parquet burned to blazes by cigarettes. And holes in two Persian rugs.”

“That,” said Lady Level, “is indefensible.”

“And look at our conversation. We do nothing but talk about money from morning to night. And I was brought up never to mention money. Though you didn’t know which way to turn, you didn’t expose your sores.”

“That,” said Forsyth, “I think a venial sin. So many have lost so much that they turn to each other for comfort. They want to share their woes.”

“That’s right,” said Berry. “And four out of five of us here are bursting to do it now. You know we’re giving up Cholmondeley Street?”

“You’re not,” said Lady Level.

“Needs must,” said Daphne. “We can’t keep two houses up.

“We can’t keep up one,” said Pembury. “Dot and I are going to withdraw to France.”

“Let me be vulgar, too,” cried Lady Morayne. “There’s Sorcery eating its head off, and I go to bargain-basements to buy my clothes. Yet, if I close the place, there’s more than twenty servants out of a job. Decent men and women that look to me. Of course I can sell the pictures…” She turned to Pembury. “Couldn’t you live on a barge?”

“Why not?” said Punch. “If you go to France, we shall never see you again.”

Berry turned to his wife.

“A barge,” he said. “That’s what we’d better do. In the winter months, you know. Moored off the Traitors’ Gate – I mean, the Savoy. No rates and taxes, Forsyth?”

“None,” said the lawyer. “No main services, either.”

“That’s all right,” said Berry, “because you live out. You have a watchman, of course: and he does the beds.”

“Thank you very much,” said Daphne.

“I’m against a barge,” said Athalia. “I’d rather live in France.”

“So would I,” said Berry. “The Beaulieus are doing that – and doing it well. And living like fighting-cocks. Beer was twopence a bottle, when I was there last year. But of course you must watch your step. If you dine at the
Palais de Splendeur
, a brandy and soda’ll cost you one pound ten. Has anyone heard from them lately? The Beaulieus, I mean.”

No one had heard.

“There you are,” said Punch. “They’re off the map”

“Some maps,” said Lady Morayne, “are not worth being on. When a man makes a fortune out of
Yes, We have no Bananas
, I’m not sure it isn’t time to turn the face to the wall. And look at the Divorce Court.”